


Powerplay

by LaMariposaRoja



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 02:04:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14966765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaMariposaRoja/pseuds/LaMariposaRoja
Summary: After the events of Season 13, Hell is left without a leader yet again. The remaining demons take matters into their own hands, deciding who will be the next to sit on the throne using old fashioned methods. That is, until an unexpected guest arrives.





	Powerplay

**Author's Note:**

> This is my projection for Season 14 because I need something to do while I wait for the next season. It's pretty short and written like a script; I hope it seems at least somewhat believable for the show's cannon.

Hell/Throne room – Time Unknown 

From the hallway just outside of the doors leading to the quaint throne room of Hell, a few voices can be heard bickering. 

DEMON #1  
So, what do we do now?

DEMON #2  
Isn’t it obvious? We find another King.

DEMON #3  
But Lucifer is dead!

DEMON #2  
You idiot! Lucifer hasn’t been the only King of Hell.

DEMON #1  
What about the Princes?

DEMON #2  
Dead.

DEMON #3  
Knights of Hell?

DEMON #2  
Dead or hidden. No one has seen one since Abaddon. But would you really want to go through all of that mess again? Especially with no Devil to keep them in check.

The other demons nod in resignation. The atmosphere drips with doubt and a bit of fear, which is only aided by the ambient sounds coming from the screams of the damned. 

DEMON #3  
So…the throne is up for grabs?

DEMON #1  
Guess so.

The demons look to the empty chair at the head of the room. They share a quick look before dashing towards it in unison. 

DEMON #3  
It’s mine! I worked for it!

DEMON #1  
Shut up, traitor! You sided with Crowley!

DEMON #3  
You followed him too, you pansy!

DEMON #2  
No way in here am I gonna bow to either of you two imbeciles!

The three continue to squabble, pushing and shoving one another. One eventually gets onto the seat, but it doesn’t last long before the others rip them off and shove them forcefully to the ground. 

The demon on the ground pounds their fist and snarls, readying for another go at the fray. But suddenly, a high-pitched wail turns into a drawn out crescendo. The room quakes and piercing rays of light can be seen just underneath the cracks of the door. Glasses shatter and the demon on the ground quickly curls up and covers their head with their hands in a feeble attempt to avoid injury. The two demons on the throne halt in their brawl to each cover their ears, screaming out in pain as the noise grows impossibly louder still. 

The doors fly open, one of them ripping off from its hinges to clatter heavily to the floor, just a few inches from the demon occupying the same space. The light and noise pervade for a moment longer as a glowing silhouette steps forward, the faint outline of wings being drawn in from behind the figure. The demon on the floor has their head down and eyes closed, but the two on the throne are still clapping at their ears with eyes wide in terror. As the figure steps closer, the demons’ eyes shine with the same light radiating from the being. They hiss in pain and fall to the floor, smoke coming from their empty eye sockets.   
The light dies with the noise and footsteps come to a stop in front of the demon on the ground. The demon looks up slowly, starting with the black dress shoes and following the dark trench coat up to a familiar face. 

DEMON #1  
Winchester?

The angel shakes his head slowly with a few clicks of his tongue. 

MICHAEL  
Not anymore.

~*~

Hell/Throne Room – Time Unknown 

MICHAEL paces around the throne room, picking up various trinkets and inspecting them with half-interest before tossing them to the floor already littered with debris. DEMON #1 stands at attention in the center of the room, his comrades sprawled out at the foot of the throne, still moaning in pain. DEMON #1 fidgets impatiently, but remains quiet, lest they invoke the wrath of the mighty archangel currently within his perfect vessel. 

MICHAEL  
Where are the other anathemas?

DEMON #1  
They’re here. Most of them…in Hell. Others are scattered about on Earth.

MICHAEL  
But there are more of you?

DEMON #1  
Yes.

MICHAEL  
And your armies?

DEMON #1  
Here too. But…um…

DEMON #1 looks about, worried for a second before sighing and clearing their throat, readjusting their posture to be more confident. 

DEMON #1  
Hell’s armies are strong. Our soldiers can vanquish any of our enemies. Even with no leader!

DEMON #1 stands proudly, but its clear that their brave demeanor is faltering. MICHAEL stops messing about and looks straight at DEMON #1. MICHEAL stalks forward, gripping onto the lapels of the DEMON’s suit jacket. DEMON #1 cries out in fright, shutting their eyes tightly and turning their head as they are jostled about, expecting this to be their final moments. 

MICHEAL  
No leader, you say?

DEMON #1 cracks an eye open, surprised to hear the angel speaking with such a gentle tone. 

DEMON #1  
Y-yes.

MICHEAL grins, looking back and forth between the DEMON’s eye for a moment before putting them down and stepping away. 

MICHEAL  
I don’t expect there are any challengers to that position, no?

DEMON #1  
Not—not at the moment.

MICHAEL  
Good.

MICHAEL plods towards the throne at the head of the room that lay in shambles. He steps over one of the demons on the ground while the other quickly crawls away. MICHAEL stops a few inches from the chair, turning to look at DEMON #1 over his shoulder, taking notice in the DEMON’s shaken expression. He slowly rolls his attention back towards the chair, keeping a neutral expression on his face. Extending a hand, MICHAEL touches the gold backing and the chair ignites. DEMON #1’s jaw falls open as the flames reflect in their widened eyes. 

MICHAEL turns back around with a cat-like elegance to his movements, accompanied by a leonine smirk. 

MICHAEL  
Call your generals. It’s time to get down to business.


End file.
